


lemongrass and sleep

by closingdoors



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Honeymoon, One (1) mention of their wedding in tonight's ep and I end up writing this, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 13:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors
Summary: "You've got to work on that road rage of yours, babe."Vanessa and Charity go on their honeymoon.





	lemongrass and sleep

She smells like lemongrass and sleep  
She tastes like apple juice and peach  
Oh, you would find her in a Polaroid picture  
And she means everything to me  
**She, Dodie**

 

* * *

 

 

The first morning in Scotland brings hazy rainfall with it. Vanessa sits in the plush chair by the window, turning when she hears the rustle of sheets. Charity blinks at her bleary-eyed, her cheek smudged with lines made during her sleep, still soft around the edges as she takes in the new day.

Vanessa curls her legs up into the seat, hooking a hand around one fluffy-socked ankle. The light streaming through the windows is a muted white. Charity still glows.

“Morning.”

Charity’s voice is a rasp.

“Morning.”

She watches her wife push up on her elbows. The sheets drop to her waist. Her skin is deliciously bare, the shift of her spine tantalising and leading a tempting line down. Charity catches her watching and smirks.

Vanessa tilts her head up when Charity slinks out of bed, loosely tying her silk robe at her waist. She carefully avoids glancing at the flash of thigh with each step she takes.

Charity's fingers curl at her jaw when she dips down to kiss her. Her breath is stale and she still smells like the greasy fast food they'd shared in the car last night. Vanessa's body rises up to meet hers, up and out of the chair, until they're stood pressed together.

"We're supposed to be sightseeing," Vanessa murmurs breathlessly.

Charity's tongue is warm against her neck, her laughter warmer.

"You're a sight to see."

"That was awful."

Charity's nose nudges against her clavicle. 

"Yet you married me."

The silk of Charity's robe is cool against her fingers. It flutters around her hips when Vanessa tugs the knot loose. Her hands seek as much of her wife as they can get. Charity sighs against her shoulder when she palms one of her breasts.

Vanessa closes her eyes and kisses Charity, heart beating staccato to the patter of rain.

 

* * *

 

 

They share breakfast in a café tucked away from tourists on the second day. There's still no sun, but Vanessa's brought that ridiculous yellow coat Charity's begrudgingly learned to love, so she lights up the whole city. 

Vanessa mixes the fruit and yoghurt in her bowl. Charity's allowed herself to indulge in a fry up. The tea is a little too strong and the bacon too well done for her tastes, but she's sure soon enough Vanessa will begin picking at her food, bored of her own.

Simple things like that used to bother her. The husbands she's had who tried to force domesticity by sneaking sips of her orange juice or trying to feed her over the table. She played along, but it was all an act.

She'd figured that was what marriage was. Theatrics. 

A drop of yoghurt clings to the edge of Vanessa's lips as she purses them, pushing her blueberries around the bowl with her spoon. Charity rolls her eyes good-naturedly and leans across the table to kiss the edge of her mouth, smudging the yoghurt away. But she turns her head at the last minute, their lips connecting, and Vanessa tastes tart, sweet, like the strawberries she's been eating. Charity resists the urge to scoop up all the sweetness with her tongue and pulls away, pleased when Vanessa's got that dopey-eyed, soft-smiled expression on. 

"Go on then," she says, nudging bacon to the edge of her plate, "before you starve to death." 

 

* * *

 

"It's beautiful here," Vanessa answers, tugging her jeans on, cradling her phone between her cheek and shoulder. "I almost hate that I have to leave."

On the other end of the phone, Tracy gushes. "Awww, V, you're gonna have a brill time. I'm dead jealous." 

"How're the boys?" 

"They're fine, stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying." 

"Uh, you're my sister, I know when you're worried. Just enjoy the break, yeah?"

The door to the bathroom opens. Charity emerges and the steam from the shower follows her. Her damp hair is thrown over one shoulder, little rivulets of water still running over the curves of her collarbones. She holds her towel with one hand as she rifles through her suitcase for an outfit. 

"Yeah. I will. Kiss the boys from me."

"Give Charity a kiss from me." 

Vanessa laughs and ends the call. She settles on the edge of the mattress and watches Charity dress. Her arms stretch above her head as she slips a buttonless blouse on, the chiffon rippling around her hips. Charity quirks an eyebrow at her when her head appears out of the collar.

"Your sister tell you to stalk me?"

"No. She told me to give you this."

Vanessa stands to meet Charity, kissing her softly, fingers playing with the ends of the wet hair she untucks from the blouse.

"Hope she doesn't mind if I return the favour," Charity replies, kissing her harder.

 

* * *

 

 

Vanessa grumbles as the driver ahead of them turns off the road sharply without indicating. Her forehead wrinkles with it, lips turning to a pout.

Charity watches her fondly. The road is clear of anyone but them now, rain a steadying beat against the windscreen, the wipers working overtime to try and clear it. The hills either side of them slope slowly, boasting more greenery than she thinks she's seen in the dales. 

"You've got to work on that road rage of yours, babe."

"I just think it's reasonable to expect people to  _warn_ you what they're doing." 

"That's because you drive the speed of a snail." 

Vanessa reaches over and slaps her thigh without taking her eyes off the straight road.

"I do not!"

"You're right." Charity pauses and takes a sip of tea from the thermos. "Snails are faster." 

Vanessa almost looks towards her to glare. Charity catches her hand before it can reach out to smack her again. She threads her own fingers through Vanessa's and lifts them, letting her lips ghost over her wrist, then up a sure line towards her wedding ring. 

 

* * *

 

 

The next hotel room they stay in is small and cramped, a way of saving money during their two-week honeymoon, and she's more than a little wary of how thin the walls are. She presses her moans into the pillow during the night as Charity's tongue brings her body towards bliss.

In the morning, grey greets them. The room is cool from the early spring weather and Vanessa fits her body against Charity's for warmth. She doesn't seem to mind.

Vanessa lets her nails scratch lightly over Charity's palm and forearm. Her wife has been nothing but smiles and warmth since they'd exchanged their vows. Still, a little bit of insecurity slips into her mind. This is her first honeymoon and it's nothing short of perfection to her. Charity's here. That's all she needs.

But Charity's past marriages -- they could give her the plush, comfortable lifestyle she sought. Vanessa can't give her that. 

Charity hooks her arm around her shoulders, hand cupping her shoulder. Through the wall, they hear the headboard in the next room begin to creak, and Vanessa can't stop the hysterical laughter she lets out. She tries to muffle it against Charity's neck but her wife's body is shaking with laughter, too.

 

* * *

 

 

Vanessa's mitten-clad hand links with her own.

The wind if sharp and biting. Charity tucks her chin down towards her chest, carefully keeping her distance from the waves as they drift lazily against the shore. She's sure the damp sand is already ruining her boots.

Up ahead of them, an elderly couple are walking their dog. The dog catches sight of them and makes a beeline straight for them, leaving its owners behind. The older couple continue to meander at a steady pace.

Vanessa drops her hand crouches when the dog reaches them. Charity doesn't know a lot about animals, but she figures the golden retriever is friendly enough, considering how mad its tail is going as Vanessa scratches at its head and coos over it.

"Don't you get sick of animals, seeing as they're your job an' all?" 

Vanessa shakes her head. "Do  _you_ get bored of booze?" 

The elderly couple finally meet them. Vanessa exchanges pleasantries with them, cheeks bright red from the cold, the bobble on her wooly hat bouncing as she nods at something they're saying. Charity doesn't keep track. She pets the dog idly as she studies her wife's profile. Her breath is visible in the air, caught in the wind and carried safely away from the sea. Vanessa's beauty has a sort of adorable quality to it. Something she'd never thought she'd find herself attracted to before they'd been trapped in a cellar.

"Isn't that right, Charity?"

"Yeah," she agrees, snapping back into the conversation. Vanessa's eyes twinkle with mirth. Apparently, she can't fool her wife.

"So what brings you two all the way from Yorkshire?" The older lady asks, her prescription glasses so strong that her eyes look triple their size.

"We're on our honeymoon."

The woman's smile falters for a second. The man busies himself by pulling a tennis ball from his pocket and throwing it for the dog. The dog bounds away with a loud bark.

Charity tenses, ready to protect her wife from the judgement she feels flitter through their eyes briefly. The side-glances and curled lips they sometimes get when they travel out of the village don't bother her, not really, her skin's too thick for that. She's been judged for far worse than loving a woman. To ease the tightness that appears around Vanessa's eyes, however, she's pretty certain she'd start picketing.

"Oh, isn't that lovely."

The words are flat. Anger makes her skin hot as she watches Vanessa's smile drop.

"Got a problem with that?" 

"Charity," Vanessa warns softly.

"No problem at all," the woman says too quickly, "I'm surprised. You're such a beautiful woman, pet."

"Yeah, that's sort of why I married her."

"Let's just go," Vanessa interrupts, grabbing her hand again. She widens her eyes when Charity doesn't move. "Charity."

"And for the record," Charity adds at the elderly woman's now-glaring expression, "it'll definitely be a happier marriage than yours." 

She lets Vanessa pull her away. 

They don't speak for a while. Charity fastens their pace, ready to let off steam, unwilling to direct her anger at Vanessa. Her cheeks are probably as red as Vanessa's now.

"Thank you," Vanessa says eventually, too quietly for her liking.

Charity jerks to a stop. Vanessa's arm tugs, not expecting the sudden movement. 

"I meant it." 

The way Vanessa looks at her is oddly shy. Charity sighs.

"I know I'm not good with saying how I feel, and I don't exactly have a great track record with marriage - "

"That's an understatement."

"But I know I'm happy. _We're_ happy. And I love you."

Vanessa's edges soften. "I love you too."

There's a lot of people who think she doesn't deserve this, she knows that. Not because Vanessa's a woman, but people back in the village, even some of her own family. People who've used her or thrown her away time after time. The people who manipulated her and were surprised when she grew claws, learned how to protect herself. Those unwilling to see through  _why_ she's the way she is. 

She won't give them the satisfaction of bringing them down, though. Not when it means she gets to see Vanessa smile like she does now. 

"Good." She squeezes Vanessa's hand. "Because it's too late to back out now. I'm never letting you go, babe."

 

* * *

 

 

Charity crosses her eyes over the shoulder of the shop attendant. Vanessa smothers her smile and pays polite interest to whatever it is he's rambling about.

They've stopped in a small shop during their search for souvenirs for the boys. Moses and Johnny had been easy enough to buy for, they'd found something for Ryan three shops ago, but buying for Noah's proving more difficult.

Charity had wanted to buy him a fridge magnet and be done with it. Vanessa, however, knows how sullen Noah can be, and recognises that it's not entirely from being a moody teenager. He's pushed aside too much, and has been recently in the lead up to the wedding.

Plus, he's still not exactly warmed towards her. She'd rather like to have him on her side now that she and Charity are married.

They leave the shop empty-handed. It's getting late now, the sky swirling with dark grey clouds. Charity ropes an arm around her waist and squeezes. Vanessa drops her cheek to her shoulder, pouting.

"Come on then," Charity encourages sardonically, "tenth time lucky."

 

* * *

 

 

Charity stirs when her phone screen lights up, cutting through the dim light of the room.

The telly's still on low volume, playing the credits of the film they'd fallen asleep watching in the middle of the afternoon. Vanessa's head rests against her stomach, the rest of her body curled horizontal across the bed as she sleeps.

Charity wipes the sleep away from her eyes. The text is from Chas:  _How's married life?_

Vanessa snuffles in her sleep, one arm hugging Charity's thigh.

 _Perfect,_ she types back.

 

* * *

 

 

Charity drives them to the last hotel. This one's far grander than the rest. Nothing crazy out of their price range - after all, they've three kids to feed, their budget for their wedding  _and_ honeymoon had been limited - but the marble floors and expensive art on the walls could fool her. When Charity crowds her up against the wall of the lift, sipping from her mouth, she's almost a little overwhelmed by it all.

They'd arrived late, so they share the chocolate they'd bought for the car journey as dinner. It melts in their hands when they get too caught up in each other and laughter spills out of her when Charity accidentally smears it across her chin. Her laughter turns to sighs when Charity's finger runs a line from her clavicle down to her bellybutton, leaving an uneven trail of chocolate in its wake, her mouth following it.

They'll be charged for ruining the sheets. She doesn't care.

 

* * *

 

 

Vanessa nods her head along to the beat of the song playing in the bar. 

Even through the stench of alcohol, she's alarmingly aware of Vanessa's perfume. One Ryan had bought her for her last birthday. It's vanilla and elderflower, something that should be boring, but her senses always feel like they're amped up to a hundred when she's around her wife.

Charity buys them another round and a couple shots for good measure. Her face feels pleasantly warm from the last few rounds, but Vanessa looks like she's already drunk . Most of her hair has fallen out of the complicated bun she'd tied it up in. She reaches out and tucks some of it behind Vanessa's ears, rewarded with a bright smile.

"You're so beautiful." 

"I'll drink to that."

They do the shots - sambuca, which makes Vanessa wince adorably - and slam the glasses back down onto the table.

Vanessa's clumsy fingers reach out and curl around the lapels of Charity's blazer. She pulls her closer.

"I mean it. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

They're not new words. She's been called all sorts of things by men before, paying or not. Beautiful. Sexy. Dirty.

Whore.

Charity blinks, giving her wife a crooked smile.

"I'd hope so, babe. We're married." 

Vanessa shakes her head, eyes glassy.

"No-one but you."

Charity tilts her head. "No-one but me what?"

Vanessa jumps in her seat and yells when the song switches to some awful dance beat. She forgets to reply to Charity's question.

Instead she stumbles to her feet, teetering in her heels, trying to drag Charity up with her.

"Oh, c'mon Charity," she whines, "it's  _fun!_ " 

Charity grits her teeth and downs her drink for good measure, letting her wife drag her over to the dance floor which is filled with a dozen other middle-aged women who all seem to know the choreographed dance to the song. Charity copies them half-heartedly. 

Vanessa glances at her over her shoulder, her dance moves overexaggerated and awful. It reminds her of another time, when they were filled with uncertainty, when she'd feared another woman would catch Vanessa's eye.

Ignoring the dance they're supposed to be following, Charity reaches for Vanessa, until their bodies are pressed together. Her stomach is flooded with heat when Vanessa glances up at her through half-lidded eyes.

Vanessa presses both hands to Charity's cheeks.

"Beautiful."

It feels real, when she says it.

 

* * *

 

 

Vanessa blows her cheeks out, studying herself in the mirror for the thousandth time, fussing over her curled hair again.

She hears a knock on the other side of the door. 

"Babe, you ever coming to bed?"

"One minute."

She hears Charity's soft footsteps retreat and then the soft rumble of her voice as she speaks to Debbie on the phone. It's their last night in the hotel, one of their last of the honeymoon, and though Charity claims she'd rather stick pins in her eyes than go back to work, Vanessa knows she misses her children.

Vanessa takes a few more calming breaths, assessing her reflection one more time for good measure, and waits until she hears the phone call end before she opens the door.

Charity stops, one knee on the bed.

Her smile is slow and her eyes are dark. Vanessa feels dizzy with the hunger she feels emanating from her.

"Ness." Her voice is low and a little strangled and it shoots straight through her. "Where have you been hiding  _that?_ "

Vanessa lets confidence seep through her. Holds her shoulders straight and lets her hips sway. The lace scratches against her skin with each step. She doesn't miss the way Charity's eyes track from her legs up to her chest.

When she's close, Charity reaches out for her, but Vanessa pushes against Charity's shoulders. She drops down to the bed, wide-eyed. 

Vanessa pushes Charity's legs apart with one knee, stepping into the space between them. 

The gold basque has had the exact effect she'd been looking for when she'd bought it and hidden it away at the bottom of her case. She'd almost been too embarrassed to buy it, but Rhona wouldn't let her leave the shop once she'd noticed her eyeing it up.

Out of the two of them, Charity has always been the most confident with her body. Vanessa isn't ashamed of her body by any means, but the stretch marks from carrying Johnny and warped scar from the stabbing have changed her body in ways she's still not entirely comfortable with.

She knows Charity wants her. Charity has never made her feel anything but wanted. Putting her body on display like this however, drawing attention to it for Charity's pleasure, that's new. 

Charity's hands lift up, shaping around her waist, biting down on her lower lip.

"Last night in this big bed," Vanessa murmurs, face flooding with heat at the sultry tone that leaks out of her unintentionally, "without any kids to worry about, or Chas and Paddy next door..."

Charity practically gulps.

"Right." 

Vanessa grins, pushing Charity again until she's prone. Their chests brush and Charity's eyelashes flutter. 

"You can be as loud as you want."

Charity grabs fistfuls of her hair, tugging down to kiss her fiercely. Vanessa groans and bites down on Charity's lower lip, tugging, unwilling to lose this power play.

Charity's gasping when she pulls away.

" _Me?"_ One of her hands travels down, hooking around Vanessa's thigh, until their hips are pressed together. "Not exactly quiet yourself, babe."

Vanity diverts her attention to the length of Charity's neck, teeth sharp and tongue soothing. The next breath Charity releases is shaky.

"Charity Dingle," she practically purrs, making quick work of the buttons of Charity's sleep shirt. Her tongue is drawn to the hollows of her collarbones, her hands firm when she grips her hips, feeling the sharp rise and fall of her breath with her thumbs. "I can make you scream."

 

* * *

 

 

Their guide barely looks older than Noah.

Vanessa smiles when she says it but quiets her, digging an elbow in her ribs when she rolls her eyes at everything he says.

The group of them follow him out to the campsite. It's a small group, barely ten of them, and the others don't hesitate to tell them how many times they've been out to try and see the lights. The only one of them Charity doesn't find unbearable is a woman named Nadia who shares her flask of gin during the coach journey. 

She and Vanessa bicker over how to set up the tent. Vanessa insists on reading the guidebook, but Charity figures it can't be too hard to set up a bunch of sticks with some material stuck to them. It turns out she's wrong, and they spend an extra hour fixing the mistake she's made while the other couples are making their tea.

She should hate this, she thinks. She should hate the wind whipping at them this high up in the mountains, the unbearably outdoorsy people she's stuck with, the fact she's going to be sleeping in a  _tent._ When they'd first discussed their honeymoon, and their budget, she'd hoped for a hot week in Lanzarote and Vanessa in a bikini with a whole lot of skin that needed suncream rubbed on. She hadn't thought they'd end up in Scotland, trying to see the Northern Lights.

Vanessa pours her a coffee from the thermos, bobble hat pulled so far down it almost covers her eyes.

Charity doesn't hate anything about this at all.

She and Vanessa sit, shoulder-to-shoulder, in pleasant silence. The rest of the group babble around the campfire. It's background noise.

They don't always need to fill the quiet. That's another thing she's learned from Vanessa. Quiet can be good.

Past marriages, past lovers, they've always made the silence feel stilted. She's never known what it feels like to simply enjoy someone else's presence before. 

Really, she doesn't think she's ever known what it's like to be loved before.

Vanessa's hand grips hers and she gasps, pointing up at the sky.

"Charity, look!"

The lights are a spectacular display of green. Charity feels herself letting out a soft  _wow_ in awe. They weave through the sky slowly, a little dim at first. When they bloom in colour, it's dazzling. She had no idea the world could be this beautiful.

Charity turns to kiss her. She tastes of the weak tea she'd made. The familiarity makes her chest tight. 

"What was that for?" Vanessa asks when she pulls away.

"I love you," Charity says simply. That's the truth of it all.

 

* * *

 

 

They stop off at a twenty-four hours McDonalds on the drive home. Charity pays more attention to her black coffee than her food and Vanessa eyes up her fries, regretting asking for a fruit bag with her meal.

They're the only ones here, unsurprising considering it's almost midnight on a Thursday. The staff potter about cleaning and Vanessa hooks her ankle around Charity's under the table. 

Under the bright, artificial lights, Charity looks a pleasant kind of tired.

"I'll drive the rest of the way," Vanessa finds herself saying. "You rest."

"Nah, babe. I'm good." 

She takes a long sip of her coffee and pushes her fries towards Vanessa. Vanessa accepts them instantly, licking away the salt that clings to her fingers after.

"Let me take care of you, Charity Dingle."

Charity rolls her eyes.

"If you insist." She pauses, cup held before her lips. "Vanessa Dingle."

She smirks when Vanessa swats at her.

The moon is a smudge in the sky when they leave. Vanessa turns the radio down low when she merges onto the motorway, which is pleasantly empty for once. She begins humming lightly to herself, thinking Charity has fallen asleep, but then she feels a hand rest on her thigh.

She glances at Charity briefly and finds her wife is, as she thought, asleep.

Vanessa smiles to herself. How beautiful it is to be trusted like this. To be the one Charity lets her guard down around. Being loved by Charity Dingle is a privilege. 

How lucky she is.

 

* * *

 

 

Their first day back in Emmerdale brings sun with it. It fills the room with yellow, splashing against the walls and their bodies.

Charity threads her fingers through Vanessa's when she hears the rest of the house welcoming the new day. The sound of Noah searching for his trainers before footie; Moses and Johnny playing downstairs; the clink of glass as Chas sets up the pub. Her ring knocks against Vanessa's.

"Morning."

She presses a kiss to Vanessa's shoulder.

"Morning."

Vanessa twists and cranes her neck to press a messy, tired kiss to her lips.

This, she learns, is marriage.


End file.
